


The Safety of the Unusual Normal

by MINDinINK



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Clint Barton Has Issues, Clint Barton trusts nobody, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Panic Attacks, Phil Coulson is a cool dad, Rebellious teenager, Sickness, Teenage clint barton, Training, Whump, becoming Hawkeye, he learns to trust Phil though, highschool, injuries, mentions of child abuse, traumas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MINDinINK/pseuds/MINDinINK
Summary: Clint Barton, twelve year old orphan has been on the run from the system and authorities for over a year. He has long noticed the guy following him, staring and watching him from the distance, but he‘s always been good at running, running an hiding. Only this time, it seems like there is more than one party after him.Phil Coulson is a young Agent at SHIELD, but one of the most trusted ones. When Nick Fury walked into his office, dumping a file of a twelve year old on his desk, he would have never guessed what he was about to get himself into. He only knew that he was a better option for the kid, than the handler the board members had decided on for Barton. It was him or a man known for his violent outbursts and merciless training. The decision was made.After all, Clint Barton was only twelve and the list of past emergency room visits already far too long.
Comments: 40
Kudos: 66





	1. Mission RUNAWAY

**Author's Note:**

> This is the base story for the RAISING HAWKEYE Series.
> 
> English is not my first language and while I appreciate constructive criticism of any kind, I would ask you to not slam the mistakes in my face in an offensive way. I had that happen before and it killed my muse for a story I used to love writing.
> 
> This story is unbeta-ed and if one of you dear readers would be ready to help me out as a Beta reader and correcting my mistakes, i would be forever grateful.

**For my RP- Partners Kristina, Tony, Bucky and Steve, who always believed in me and supported my writing. You guys are the reason my stories exist**

„I have a special job for you“

The file landed on his desk in front of him. A paper cover, not labeled, too thin to hold more than just a couple of pages. Agent Phillip Coulson‘s eyebrow raised, looking at Nick Fury standing in front of him with usual stoic face. He gave the agent a nod towards the file, waiting for him to have a look at his assignment. Coulson slowly moved his eyes off him and turned his attention towards the file, opening it as he leaned back In his office chair.

A frown appeared on his forehead, deepening as he kept on reading over the little information in his hands. 

A birth certificate of one Clinton Francis Barton, born in Waverly Iowa, a photo of a dirty blond kid attached to it with a paperclip. 

An accident report, declarations of death of Harold and Edith Barton from four years prior. 

Emergency room reports. Too many of them. Head wound to be stitched. Bruises with suspected broken ribs. A broken wrist. Severe ear infection. A ruptured eardrum. 

A filed report for possible child abuse, marked as dropped soon after. 

Photos of the same child. Slightly older, standing between what seemed to be circus tents, smiling at a person that could have been male or female. Another photo of him balancing on a beam too many feet above the ground, holding what seemed to be a bow. Last photo. A face shot. Hard blue eyes on a too young, too serious face. Scratches on his cheek bone, fading bruises on his temple, rain running out of soaked hair and down his face. 

He had enough. 

In a swift motion he closed the file and dropped it back on the desk, making it slide towards Fury. 

„What am I supposed to do with that? An abused orphan is hardly an opponent for SHIELD. He's still a child“

The boy‘s eyes came back to his mind, serious and cold. He was only twelve, thirteen in a couple of weeks. His eyes had the expression of a grown man, who had seen too much In life.

„I don‘t want you to take him down, Phillip. I want you to pick him up and bring him in“

The agent looked at the director, searching in his eye as if he could figure out if he was playing him or being actually serious. Fury tapped a finger on the file, returning Coulson‘s intense gaze.

„This boy has been on the run for the past fourteen months, all across the states. Authorities lost track of him after they brought him into an orphanage in Wilmington after a theft charge. He took down a social worker and jumped from the first floor window before he took off, armed with a bow“

Coulson raised out of his chair, hands on the surface of his desk, his face going cold as he realised where the conversation was heading. He couldn't be serious. This was not the work they were supposed to do!

„You want to use him as a weapon? He is twelve years old , Nicholas!“

Fury rolled his eye, gave an annoyed clicking tone with his tongue and reached into the pocket of his long coat to bring out his phone. In silence, that was very unlike for the usually very vocal man, he tapped over the screen of his phone and then started a video, turning the device to Coulson to see. 

In a short clip he watched said Clint Barton, at an age of maybe ten years old, standing in the middle of a circus arena. A bow in hand, that seemed too big for his small figure, focused away from the camera. He was probably not even aware he was being filmed. Ten seconds into the movie targets of various sizes and form started to pop up around him. With an accuracy he had never seen before, the boy started spinning and releasing arrow in all directions, dodged an object that was suddenly flying at him, before sprinting up a small ramp, which he jump off with a backflip, knocking another target down midair.

The camera zoomed as he landed on one knee, breathing hard, looking into the audience smiling. 

The lights went out. 

Fury turned the screen off and dropped the phone back into his pocket, crossing his arms and raising his chin. With an expression of contentment on his face, he gave Coulson a look, amused by his baffled expression. 

„We don‘t have to turn that kid into a weapon, Coulson. Someone else did that before us. I want to have him under SHIELD‘s wing, before someone else gets him. He‘s got nowhere to go, nobody to trust. He runs from anywhere and anybody. The deal is to offer him shelter, education he never had, training to support his skills“

„You take advantage of his situation to use his skills to someone else's advantage“

„Coulson!“ Fury was losing his patience. „I picked you for this kid for reasons. There are already people after him and I‘m not talking about the shop owners he stole his food from. He‘s on people‘s radar for the skills he has and he is in danger out there. SHIELD may not be a great place for a kid, but it‘s his fucking best option and if you don‘t do it I might as well ask Willers to go get him“

Coulson narrowed his eyes at him as Fury kept talking, his voice becoming sharp. By the time he was finished, he was clearly holding back a pissed off mood. 

„Willers has no moral. He gives a rat‘s ass about a child“ he shot back, understanding already what the tactic was. 

„And he was the choice of the board members, who I talked into assigning you. Don‘t leave me hanging, Phil. We are a chance for Barton. Probably the best he has at this point“

Coulson turned and took his jacket from the back of his office chair. 

„Clinton, his name is Clinton“ he corrected as he threw the jacket on and took his wallet, that contained his SHIELD ID card, from the top drawer of his desk. Fury seemed about ready to snarl at him again, then his face cleared and he grinned. He would get his will. Coulson was already about to head out to do his job. He walked past him, Fury spun around and followed him out of his office, keeping stride with him while walking down the hallway. 

„Give me the facts, Nick“

„Last seen on tuesday afternoon at Garvey Park. He‘s been in the city for a couple of weeks, spotted at soup kitchens around. Perez and Dutchers have been scouting the area the past hours, reported in forty minutes ago to have spotted him. They are awaiting you“

Coulson stopped abruptly, looking at the director with narrowed eyes. He shook his head, gave a huff and resumed walking. 

„I‘m not approaching a kid with two agents in tow. That‘s the guarantee to have him run off. I‘m going alone“

His hand came up when Fury took a deep breath, ready to remind him of who was giving the commandos and who he was about to deal with. 

„I‘m not a rookie, Nicholas. I am aware of what he can do. I am trying to prevent him from actually doing it! He‘s a kid on the run for heaven‘s sake! Let me do it my way. I bring him in. Make sure there is a quiet place for him, food, clothes and a hot shower“

They reached the elevator. Judged by the silence of the director walking next to him, he had his plan granted. Good, because he already felt doubts creeping in about bringing a kid into a secret agency, that had spent decades influencing society and politics by sometimes questionable actions, murder included. SHIELD was no place for a runaway. The list of injuries from the emergency reports rolled through his mind, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. The kid had been through enough already. Nothing was more dangerous than a scared and ready to fight person backed into a corner.

The sound of the opening elevator doors pulled him back from his thoughts. He stepped into the small space, seeing Fury remaining in place outside. 

„I expect you to report in every thirty minutes, _Phil_ “

„You keep the board off me, _Nicholas_ “

Both man nodded as the elevator doors closed.

Twenty minutes later, after parking his car by the back entrance of Garvey Park, Coulson took a moment to collect himself. The drive to the park had been too long. Twenty minutes were a long time when one was turning around the pros and cons about a job like the one he was about to do. He leaned his head back, staring at the windshield, where the water of pouring rain was running down in streams. The thick grey clouds gave the impression of nightfall, although it was only afternoon. He took a deep breath and reached for his umbrella. Perez had reported they had seen a boy, matching the description of Clinton Barton. Before his phone could interfere with the coming meeting, he sent Fury a message and stashed the phone away in the dashboard compartment, before leaving the car to step into the rain. 

Perez and Dutchers would hopefully stand back like they had been ordered to. In case of two agents attempting to take down a child, or even holding him at gunpoint, he wouldn‘t have been sure who‘s side to take.


	2. Worlds Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson finds Clint, who is wary about what's offered to him. There must be a catch, right ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna dedicate this chapter to my new fan, who left most encouraging comments on the first chapter!!
> 
> **GeekyNightOwl1997 , this one is for you !! Thanks a bunch for your support !!!**

New York City was a goddamn rain hole. The fourth day in a row there was almost constant rain. The short breaks in between weren't even long enough to have the thick layer of clouds open up for some blue sky or, God beware, some much needed sun. Instead the rain had turned his small hideout into a damp chilly spot, with water dripping through concrete cracks non stop. His clothes were helping little to keep him warm, damp from running through the rain earlier to organize anything edible. 

Pulling his jacket tighter around him, Clint Barton looked at the concrete floor under his feet. Leaned against the wall of the small maintenance room under the bridge at the edge of a park, he was trying to think straight enough to figure out what to do next. He had long noticed the dark blue car and the two men sitting in a parking spot a few yards down the road. They weren't worrying him much. Whoever they were, he could lose them easily. They were too dumb to cover up their presence, no challenge for someone who depended on skills in being invisible. 

The man with the grey eyes was a far bigger problem. He had spotted him several times by now. In the crowds on fifth Avenue. Sitting at a cafe by Central Station. Standing at the street corner a couple of blocks from his hideout. He had never spoken and never approached him, but whenever he spotted him, the man had seemed to know he was there, staring straight back at him. The memory of his pale, dead, grey eyes caused him to shiver. 

And the shiver didn't stop. The cold was creeping into his bones, the tension of his muscles only making the persistent headache worse. Everything between his ears hurt. Fuck, even his ears hurt! He knew the pain. He had felt it too often before and he knew he would be totally fucked if he couldn't get away soon. He couldn't stay in this city, watched by whoever the fuck they were, battling whatever the fuck it was he had caught. 

He pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his knees, forehead coming down on them. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and fought down the tickle in his throat. If he gave in to that, it would have only made his headache worse. He blindly reached for the water bottle on his left, only to notice that it didn't hold more than two sips. 

"Fuck!"

He dropped the empty bottle and pulled his legs up against his chest. He had to find a way to stay warm. Normally he would have made it into the basement of a building, catching a few hours of sleep before leaving at sunrise, to not be detected. With the rain falling non stop though, he only risked getting soaked to the bone. Shit. He should have gone to Florida or some other place where sun was a given. He would definitely be gone from this shit place as soon as possible. 

He rested his forehead on his knees again and fought to keep his eyes open. Shit, it had been weeks since he had last had a decent night of sleep. The homeless shelters around Pittsburgh hadn't been bad, but with grey eyed guy on his ass, he couldn't risk the exposure in a public place like a shelter in the Big Apple. Finally his eyes fell and remained shut, his body slipping into a light slumber, demanding much needed rest. 

He was jerked from sleep when the door of the room opened. He was immediately up on his feet. With the precision of a machine, he reached for his bow, took an arrow and drew the string back with trained strength and precision. The movement took only a second. Although the room threatened to start spinning around him and his body was still shivering, he held his weapon steady, pointed at the person in the door frame. 

He could barely see anything against the light behind the figure. He could make out that the unwanted visitor was male, short haired, holding an umbrella, wearing a black or dark blue coat. He blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes used to the light after he had been sitting in the dimly lit shoebox of a room for hours. The person moved. Clint squared his shoulders.

"One more step and that arrow goes straight through you"

>>\--->

Being confronted with a weapon pointed at him wasn't a completely new situation to him. Having been recruited by SHIELD as a young man, he had his experiences with situations like that. Not that he was glad about the it. Looking at a child though, barely a teenager, holding a bow with an arrow ready to be released at him, at a distance of less than fifteen feet? Yes, that was definitely new. He remained in place and looked at the boy, clearly the one he had been looking for. 

Even with the little light falling into the small room, he could make out how pale his face was, his lips almost colorless. Judged by the red rims around his eyes, he had probably not slept for days. So it was even more impressive, that his weapon didn't move the slightest bit, despite the obvious poor state his body was in. The agent shifted in his position slightly, only to have him call out a warning. His voice was hoarse and it was hard to tell if it was the first signs of a voice break setting in, or something else.

"That arrow goes through me and you kill me along with a chance for a halfway normal life"

There was no reaction visible on the boy's face. Coulson knew agents less skilled in hiding their thoughts. It was yet to be found out if that was a good, or a very bad thing. Barton didn't reply anything to that. The arrow didn't move.

"I'm going to reach into my coat and pull out an ID. Hold that arrow"

Again there was absolutely no reaction, but that also meant no objection to what he had said he would do. Slowly he reached inside his coat and pulled out the simple leather cover holding his SHIELD ID and badge. Flipping it open, he held it in front of him for the boy to see.

"My name is Agent Phillip Coulson. My agency sent me to collect you and bring you in to make you an offer based on your skills"

That hit. Barton's forehead moved into a frown, his eyes narrowing to read the card and badge being held out.

"We know who you are and what you are capable of. I would prefer to bring you in without any fighting, holes in my body or ending up like the unfortunate social worker in Wilmington"

His frown went away, an expression of surprise appearing instead and Coulson knew at that point, that he had his attention. He pulled his ID back and placed it into the pocket it had come from, his eyes not once even leaving the boy. 

"Yes, we know about you and so do others. At this point, I dare to say we are the best option for you. Running doesn't work forever"

That sparked something in the boy. His face turned cold again, the arrow shifted, pointing straight at his face. He was stressed. He obviously knew about having been followed for a while. He was scared and underlying pressuring didn't hit the right spot. He saw him swallow hard a few times and something told him it wasn't fear he tried to gulp down.

"You have nothing to offer to me. I don't need you"

Defense reaction. He was feeling cornered in. He knew that his words were lies. He had nothing left to lose and everything to gain, but remembering his file, Coulson understood his reaction. He took a deep breath, told himself to remain calm and continued to reason with him, laying out the things he had to offer.

"I have the one thing to offer, that you've been fighting for. We can take you out of the system"

That caught him. His poker face fell. Yeah, it hadn't been hard to guess. 

"You get out of the system. No foster cares or orphanages. You could have a place to stay, of course with some surveillance as we can't leave you to your own devices. You get three meals a day and whatever you need in between. If you work up to be trusted, you can train your skills and acquire new ones. You will catch up on school education and graduate"

He could see the wheels behind his forehead turning. He had him. He saw him take a deep breath and the arrow slowly came down. He kept the quiver drawn though, his shoulder's square. His guard was still up. 

"Nobody offers all that shit for nothing. What do you want in return?"

His voice remained at the verge of breaking and it dawned on Coulson, that this was not a sign of puberty hitting. Together with his constant hard swallowing and his pale face there was hardly a doubt that the poor kid was coming down with something. Getting him to let any medical staff look at him would be a battle, one they would have to fight later. For the moment he was trying to make him move.

"For the next five years? Nothing. You go to school, you can train within time frames appropriate for your age. Once you hit eighteen? There are people aiming to train you to become a special agent, but you can't be forced into it. For now the goal is to keep you from those people, who don't care about your age in the face of your skills. It's them or us"

Coulson brought his watch up to check the time. 

"I'm supposed to be checking in with my director in eighteen minutes, to tell him how this is going to go. He wants to talk to you first, lay out a few ground rules. What should I tell him?"

The silence that fell between them was full of tension. Their eyes staring into each other. There was a long heavy moment, when Coulson thought he would decline and send him off, threatened with another arrow pointed at him. Then Barton relaxed, the arrow taken out of position and his shoulders let go of their tension, his face suddenly turning from poker face, to exhausted.

"I want a pizza"

Coulson raised a brow, the hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

"We make it a big one"

"Ham and pineapple"

"I've heard those go great with ice cream dessert"

"Mint chocolate chip"

"Wouldn't dare offering anything else. Drink?"

"Sprite, no ice"

"Pf, who likes watered down drinks anyway"

"I keep my bow"

"Of course you do, Clinton"

"Clint. The name is Clint. I'm not some old guy"

"Of course. Pack your things, my car is around the corner"

"Don't give me commands as if I'm one of your inferiors an tell the two in the blue car to fuck off"

"The two.."

"Don't think I'm fucking stupid, Agent . They've been on me for days. Their undercover work sucks"

"I'll talk to their training agent"

"Now get out. I'll be outside when I'm ready"

He only agreed with a single nod, because he knew there was no other way out of the small space. The room only held the electric systems for the park, lamp posts and such. He had been surprised that there even was a small ceiling light in order in there. He stepped back, the rain hitting his umbrella again full force, wind tugging to knock it out of his hand. With this weather it wasn't a big surprise, that Barton, Clint , had caught something. It was only another thing on the already growing list of things he would have to deal with, once he had him at SHIELD HQ. 

When the door opened four minutes later and he saw Clint step out with a backpack over one shoulder and the bow over his other, Coulson asked himself if he was actually ready for what he had gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the big question: Would you all like HUGE chapters like this one, or prefer updates more often, but with smaller chapters ? Let me know. I aim to please ;)


	3. Welcome .. Home ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson takes Clint to SHIELD HQ and it‘s not at all what Clint expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the encouraging comments, the kudos and the bookmarks/Subscriptions. I am overwhelmed and grateful for each single one !

There had been a moment right after entering his car, when it had become clear, that most of all, Clint Barton was scared. Coulson had leaned over to take his phone from the dashboard compartment, resulting in Clint slamming the button that moved the passenger seat, slamming his heels into the floor and pushing backwards as far as he could. Coulson had apologized and meant it, when he told him he would be more acceptable of his personal space.

The drive to SHIELD felt as if it took the double amount of time than usual. Clint hadn't said a word. Hugging his backpack and holding his bow so tightly his knuckles turned white, he had stared straight ahead for the whole drive. Coulson hadn't missed the constant shiver shaking the boy's body. Close up as the car forced him to be, he could tell that there was a way too slim body under the at least three layers of damp clothes. Even the cranked up heating did nothing to help him warm up. Hopefully Fury had organized one of the private quarters for Barton. Kid needed a hot shower and dry clothes.

They had just gotten out of the car and were heading towards the elevator, when Coulson's phone chimed with a message from Fury. 

_ Quarter 6.19. Clothes ready. Hill brings the food order. Get him settled. Meeting with him tomorrow 0900 _

Coulson narrowed his eyes at the screen, but didn't slow his steps, staying within a three feet distance from Barton, ready to jump should he try to run. The boy's eyes were darting around, looking for exits and scanning the underground garage to every detail. He tensed when the elevator doors opened. Coulson stepped in, button pressed to keep the doors open while Barton hesitated to get into the small space with him.

"Your quarters are at 6th floor. You can shower and change clothes, your food is on the way"

With that he took another step back, hitting the back wall of the elevator and offering distance. Barton boarded the small cabin and looked at the illuminated button for the sixth floor. It wasn't hard to guess about the thoughts spinning in his head. It almost seemed as if he had been holding his breath during the whole ride, spinning around and stepping out as soon as the gap in the doors was big enough. Coulson followed.

"This way, it's the last one on the left, you have a nice view" 

He gestured for him to lead the way and thanked whatever higher might it was, that was keeping him from meeting someone, when they reached the door unseen. Coulson touched the door handle and pressed his thumb to the small scanner pad at the top. A green stripe of light moved along his finger, before the door clicked open. Clint took a deep breath.

"Yeah, that's a bit of a standard around here. We get your prints into the system once we settle you in, saves a lot of keys around the building"

He smiled at him in a , as he hoped, encouraging way and then pushed and held the door open for him.

"Welcome to your new home, Mr.Barton"

>>\--->

There was a hook to this. Seriously, there must have been a hook to this… offer. Nobody in this goddamn world would offer  _ him _ all these things and basically expect nothing in return. Food, shelter, training, education? Heck, he would happily pass on the education part, but the rest sounded just too good to be true. There was something wrong with this offer. The guy,  _ Agent  _ Phil Coulson, was too nice all of a sudden. He had told him too much, given in too fast. Adults never did that, unless they already plotted to backstab you. Nothing was for granted. Nobody offered anything without expectations in return. This guy and his  _ agency  _ wanted something, he just couldn't figure out what exactly it was. Besides the obvious. His skills. Pah. His skills were a circus trick? Entertainment and a basic defense opportunity.

He kept shooting the guy looks, had wanted to slap himself for the fearful reaction of sending the car seat snapping back. Old habits died hard. He wasn't alive and running, because of a trusting nature. 

Running. Yeah, he had been fucking running for over a year and the fact that there was someone following him was the only fucking reason, why he had agreed to follow the guy. Grey eyed guy was up to something and most likely it wasn't anything good. It wasn't the first time he had been followed, but the first time his follower had been so persistent and fucking creepy.

By the time the car pulled into the underground garage, the heat of the car had him at a state of near sleep. It had been days since he had had the chance to truly warm up somewhere, or sleep properly. His pains and exhaustion were threatening to pull him into sleep by the time he dragged himself out of the car, trying to not let any weakness be seen. Still he couldn't stop the habit of scanning the garage for exits, hesitate to enter the elevator.

They got him his own quarters. With a view.

What the fuck ? He was usually glad if he got a room he only shared with one other kid and he was talking about his own place ? He was wary to say the least when following Coulson. Finger prints in the system? Ha, fuck you. So absolutely no. He wouldn't agree to that shit at all. Nobody took his prints. Coulson held the door open.

New home.

He swallowed hard. The word  _ home  _ had never been associated to anything good. Beatings. Starving. Work, beyond what he could manage. Yelling. Pain and constant fear. He hesitated. If he went in first, the guy had his back turned to him. Never turn your back to someone. First rule. Never take your eyes off, don't give anybody a chance to jump on you.

He squared his shoulders and raised an eyebrow at Coulson, nodded towards the inside without even having taken a look inside. The man just raised a brow as well, then stepped in and held the door open for him. Clint slipped in, took a step to the left right after entering. That way the door could be closed and he still had his back covered. His eyes never left Coulson, his arms holding his bag tightly and his hand clutched around his bow. 

Fuck his head hurt. 

The sound of the closing door made him tense head to toe, besides it only being a low click. Slowly he tore his eyes off Coulson, who hadn't moved the slightest bit. 

"Okay..where's the hidden camera?!"

It slipped out, before he was fully aware of having formed words. This couldn't be true. Not in a million years was  _ this  _ his new place.

"No cameras in the private quarters. There are several in the hallway though"

Fuck. Fuck he must have died and gone to a very twisted kind of heaven! Slowly he set into motion. 

Right behind the door was a small space with coat hangers and a shelf, but about three steps into the place, everything opened up into a living room with a couch, a TV mounted on the wall, a table, book shelves and a glass front to his right. Yeah, he had a view!!

"Bedroom is this way, bathroom there, kitchen behind this corner"

Still baffled and trying to wrap his head around what was happening, he walked further into the room, looking around the corner and finding a fully equipped small kitchen. Least interesting room as he couldn't cook anyway, but the sight of the fridge made his stomach growl loudly. He was starving and at the same time he felt as if he would get sick the second he started eating. 

"Your food is on the way. We had to guess your sizes, but there are clean clothes in the bathroom, if you want to shower and change in the meantime"

He spun around, muttered curses under his breath when the room spun around him, but caught himself quickly. His eyes bore into the older man's. They had gotten him clothes? Had they been waiting for him? If he wouldn't have been fighting this goddam growing headache, he would have maybe come up with a good reply, something smart and snarky. Instead he only felt the urge to have that shower, to get out of his damp clothes and make the low constant shivering stop finally. He opted to say nothing at all and instead made his way to the bathroom. 

He locked the door behind himself, before even taking a look at the room. Leaning against the door from the inside, he leaned his head back and took a deep breath, slowly sliding down till he sat on the floor. 

His own place. Doors to lock behind him. 

He felt a sudden rush of emotions hit him and bit his lip hard to keep from letting them overwhelm him. He wasn't going to goddamn cry over this ! He better didn't even get used to it. It would end, fast and hard. It always did. 

He would make the most out of it while it lasted!! 

For the first time he relaxed his hold on his few belongings, allowed them to drop to the floor, while looking around. Dark blue tiled floor and walls, a spacious shower, sink and vanity, a toilet in the far off corner, a window above it under the ceiling, letting in some of the grey stormy light. The bathroom was bigger than most rooms he had ever had slept in. 

He got up and supported himself against the wall when his balance went off briefly again. There was a stack of clothes on the vanity. He ran his shaking hand over the top piece, feeling soft warm fabric. He lifted it up and spread it out- a dark blue hoodie with an emblem on the chest that stated the name of the agency. Shit, that seemed to be a real thing! The label announced the smallest size they probably had, but it would still be baggy on him. He loved the idea though.

A shirt with the same logo. Sweatpants on his size that didn't exactly look new, but were soft to the touch, a pack of underwear and socks his size, that still had the price tag on it. Another small stack of toiletries next to the sink. If those people were tricking him, they were going big. 

  
  


The shower he took lasted more than twenty minutes. For a long time he had just stood under the hot spray, enjoying the feeling of the water and heat. It had felt amazing. Same as the soft towels he had used to dry himself off. The clothes felt just as great. The shirt and hoodie both came down to his mid thighs, but the rest fitted him. The color of the clothes stood in stark contrast to his pale face, but they were warm, comfortable. Last of all he dried his hair, then his ears. His eyes watered with pain when he used a q-tip to clean the insides of his ears and wipe any left over water from them. He avoided looking at the used items. He had caught an infection again. He could tell by the way his ears were stuffing up more and more, the growing headache, the shivering and the pain pain when moving his jaw. Fuck. 

"Don't be such a pussy, Barton!" He told himself in the mirror and placed his hearing aids in and around his ears, before pulling his dark purple beanie back on. No reason to let them know everything, especially not his one weakness. Nope.

Instead he stepped back out into the living room with a fake smile on. He left his belongings in the bathroom, where they were safe behind a closed door.

His eyes fell on Coulson, sitting at the table, holding a half eaten slice of pizza, an open pizza box in front of him. Spinach and feta. Small. Why wasn't he surprised about the man eating something as ridiculous as a spinach pizza.

"Just in time" he commented and gestured at the chair on the other side of the table. "I took the freedom to place the ice cream in the freezer"

"As long as you didn't eat any of it" 

The agent waved it off with a smirk and Clint took seat at the other end of the table, pulled the pizza box close and almost ripped it open. The sight and  _ smell  _ of the fresh made pizza caused his mouth to water and his stomach to rumble with cramping pain. Impatient, at that point hungry beyond anything, he tore a slice off and folded it, half of the slice disappearing in his mouth for the first bite. Forgotten were the watchful eyes on him, the shaking and the persisting growing headache. The moment he caught the first taste, his body's demand for food overpowered him. 

He was about to take the second slice, having almost inhaled the first one, when the man's voice made him stop dead in tracks, calling him by his last name. He sat straight immediately, hand searching for his bow, eyes shooting up to stare at the man still sitting back relaxed in his chair. He hadn't expected him to yell, nevertheless his last name. It echoed in his mind and caused him to grit his teeth. He remained sitting by sheer willpower, his instincts growingly screaming to get up and run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, that‘s it for now =) Next chapter coming weekend or next week. Have a good week everyone and stay safe!
> 
> In case you wanna get in touch to become my beta reader, make suggestions or wish for sth to happen in this story or the series, find me on kik messenger. Profile name is SebMaxStaden.


	4. Observing. Waiting. Wishing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson's POV on what is happening. Maria Hill is interested in his new 'charge' and Clint gets something close to comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed with your feedback and kind comments. I'm trying to keep the chapters coming regularly, but after weeks of working like crazy, I'm Down now. Seems I pay the price for being with sick people every day. Keep reading, more is coming soon <3

"Baby sitter, hu? That's a new level, even for you"

Coulson looked at the woman placing the food order on the table in the living room.

"Always a pleasure to have you around, Agent Hill"

Maria Hill returned the offered smile, then looked around curiously. Coulson nodded towards the bathroom where the shower had been running for the past twenty minutes.

"He's getting cleaned up"

"Looked rough on the cams. How old is he?"

He sighed, sat down and offered the woman another chair. He reached up to loosened his tie and opened his suit jacket. A silent sigh escaped him, before he caught himself again and returned the curious look of the female agent.

"Thirteen in June. He's… something" 

Agent Hill let out an undefined noise, that could have been a chuckle.

"Looked small for a twelve year old, made his bow look like a toy"

"Small, starving, scared and most likely caught something on the streets, a not exactly cheery character added and you have the picture. You should have seen how I found him"

In brief words, with only as many details as necessary, he recalled the happenings in Barton's hideout. As he discussed his observations with her, he could see her frown increasingly deepen. She obviously shared his concerns, not only about the boy's safety and the agency's intentions. Among all the agents of SHIELD, Maria Hill had usually been the one to share Coulson's opinions. Not always, but most times they agreed.

"I can send you one of the doctors on duty over to check on him. By the time he agrees to the board's terms, they will demand a full physical check anyway"

Coulson waved it off with a quick gesture of his hand. 

"Indeed, he won't get around that, but right now he is ready to bolt out any second. If I have a medic jump on him now, he's gone"

Hill brought her hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Hey it was _ you  _ who said he caught something"

"I appreciate it, Maria. If you could keep one of the younger medics on stand by, we at least have a safety net. If Dr.Varma is available, he might be a person to get through to Clint"

Hill nodded, then smiled with a hint of a raised eyebrow.

"Clint, hm?"

"He corrected his name to that himself. Might as well try to build a mutual base of understanding. Who knows how long Fury is planning to make me watch him"

"I heard Willers was the board's choice to be his handler"

Coulson frowned deeply. Handler? He hadn't been asked if he wanted to be Barton's handler. Coulson preferred the term of CO anyway, but handler meant long term responsibility, usually until the end of recruitment training, which in Bartons case would mean a period of time of at least the next ten years!

"My job was to bring him in and make sure he stays. There was no word about being Barton's permanent ..CO"

"Phillip… the boy is gonna need someone to look after him. He can't be under the system's eyes  _ and  _ be trained at SHIELD, neither can he live here left on his own. He's a child still"

She had a point and Coulson knew it, but he had only had had one junior agent under his wing so far and he had been sent on his own way over two years ago. He didn't see himself as the right person to look after Barton. He was still a child, not even supposed to be where he was and Coulson's experiences with kids mostly came down to relatives, who he saw three times a year, or minors having gotten caught between the lines of SHIELD and whoever it was trying to get to them. He was in no way seeing himself as the person to care for Barton.

"I know all of that, but that's not what I was asked to do. Fury ran me over sending me to get him. We hardly talked fifteen minutes"

The sound of the running shower stopped and Coulson shot the door a look. He couldn't figure out how Clint would react if he came out seeing another person sitting with him. Hill, bless her, caught on his concern and got up, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze.

"I'll see if I can get a hold of Varma and will talk to Fury about the proceedings. Make sure your kid agent stays around"

"He's  _ not  _ my .."

"Yes, Phillip. I know. Make sure Barton stays around"

He bit his tongue, when the urge to correct her about his name being Clint, came up. Instead he nodded and watched her walk out next moment. Before the door fell closed behind her, he thanked her again, receiving only a knowing smile in return.

It took another fifteen minutes until the bathroom door opened and Clint came out. The SHIELD hoodie was far too big on him, making him look even younger and smaller than he already was. He didn't comment on the fact, that he had put his beanie back on after showering, or that he looked ready to keel over and should have made a trip to their medbay. Instead he announced the storage of his demanded ice cream and nodded towards his pizza and beverage on the table. He himself was enjoying his favorite pizza, not missing out on Clint's look. Yeah, spinach was possibly not one of his favorite foods. 

Obviously pineapple on pizza was his thing with how he started to wolf down the first slice next minute. Coulson watched with a raised brow. Clint was barely chewing at all, confirming his assumption about not having eaten in a while.

"Clint, slow down, you will make yourself sick like that" His voice was of little amusement. If the teenager enjoyed his meal, there was maybe an ounce of more trust towards him. Only that he kept literally stuffing his face with no sign of listening to him. He placed his slice down.

"I'm serious, your stomach will revolt if you keep going like that…. Clint, hey!"

Was he purposely ignoring or not hearing him? Either way, he wasn't having it. He was his responsibility for the moment and he never did anything halfway. Although he had no intention to play any authority card, he raised his voice next second.

"BARTON!"

He regretted it immediately. He stiffened. Eyes wide and his whole body tensed, he stared at him, neither blinking nor swallowing the piece he had in his mouth. He got even paler, as far as that was possible, his hand searching around. Wow, Coulson thought, that was a reaction even more extreme than what he had expected. Snapping back at him or a snarky remark, that had been expected, but going deadly still with terror and panic in his eyes was something completely different. He immediately lowered his voice again, softened his features and made sure to keep his hands where Clint could see them.

"I advised you to slow down two times before" he explained. "You were either spaced out or ignoring me, I guess the first. I asked you to slow down your eating, before you make yourself seriously sick"

A second he wasn't sure if Clint was getting what he was trying to tell him, but then he slowly resumed chewing, the expression of panic leaving his eyes. He nodded, took a breath and then squared his shoulders, putting on the brave mask again

"Spaced out. Pizza's good. Seeing your abomination over there might make me sick though. Who does that to a pizza?"

Coulson raised a brow and smiled, turned the pizza box so the lid was blocking Barton's view.

"I do and it ensures I never get asked to share"

"Sure as hell I won't ask to have a bite of ..that"

"Enjoy yours, then. Pff.. pineapple on pizza" 

"Says the one putting GREENS on! What a disgrace"

"Speak for yourself, Clint, who puts fruit on pizza"

A second later they both chuckled, lowly and eyes down on their pizzas, but it felt like the constant tension between them toned down a level or two. Maybe they would get through the day without Clint running or Coulson turning grey. 

To his absolute disbelief Clint managed to eat the whole pizza, washed it down with Sprite and then added half of the ice cream to his stomach's content while watching a movie, before he announced that he was full. The sun was already starting to set and although they hadn't talked much while eating, Coulson had the impression that Clint had somewhat settled to accept his company. His watched told him, that it was only shortly after six thirty, but it wasn't hard to see that Clint could barely keep his eyes open at that point. 

The buzz of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. The message didn't read much, except for Fury demanding to see him and discuss further steps. Coulson wondered if Hill had anything to do with it. Either way he got up, wanting to settle the rules and find out what exactly it was that Fury wanted him to do. He rounded the couch, where Clint had settled, stepping into his line of sight, announcing himself by clearing his throat. 

The boy's head snapped around to look at him. Coulson started to wonder if Barton had a problem noticing anything around him when being focused on something. If that was the case, they would need to work on that. With what SHIELD had planned for him, the ability to keep his surrounding under constant attention could make the difference between life and death.

"The director called me to his office. You are free to do whatever er you want, as long as you stay here. The fridge and cabinets are stocked, so breakfast shouldn't be a problem to make. I'll be here tomorrow at 0845 to pick you up"

The next question came as sudden as it was unexpected and by the way Barton bit his lip, he could tell the boy was just as surprised as him.

"You are Leaving?"

>>\--->

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so full. Clint had appreciated the man not questioning him about anything while they ate. The pizza was amazing and he would have eaten the whole ice cream if he could. Halfway through the pizza he had felt nauseous briefly, but still not trusting the propositions and not knowing when he would next eat something, he had slowed down and finished it off. Having ice cream on the couch while watching a movie was a first time experience. Watching a movie he had chosen, while sitting somewhere comfortable, instead of constantly looking around to run in case of being called after sneaking in, was a first! 

So no, he didn't notice Coulson coming over and as much as he wanted to fight the reflex, so the man wouldn't catch on his constant feeling of dread, he couldn't prevent himself from almost jumping.

Breakfast was taken care of. He had to stay in the apartment. Ready to go at 8.45am. 

He was leaving.

He hated the way his voice was shaking when the question burst out. He didn't necessarily want him to stay, but that he was leaving him in the apartment was surprising. Clint didn't feel safe there, not the slightest bit. Coulson had opened the apartment door soundless, with just his fingerprints being scanned. Who knew who else was able to enter in silence ? Thinking about it made his headache worse. He had been at the verge of succumbing to exhaustion, when the agent had caused him to jerk. His still racing heart beat was pounding in his ears. 

"I need to attend that meeting on your behalf. I can come back, if you want"

What? Nah. 

"I don't need a babysitter,  _ Agent "  _

He gave a huff, possibly a bit exaggerated, but he didn't care much. Being alone sounded great. He was dead tired and if he was lucky he still had a painkiller left in his bag that would allow him to sleep through the night. 

"I didn't say you need a babysitter. A new place and the changed situation you are in could be…"

He cut him off, annoyance about the man always analyzing him and being oh so understanding kicking in. 

"I said  _ I don't need you  _ here" 

It came out louder than intended, but his stress level was kicking up, plus his physical state wasn't exactly improving. All in all not the best base for a polite conversation. Coulson? Just took it and that annoyed him even more. Shrugging it off, he took a look around, then went back to where he had sat before. Clint's eyes never left him.

"The door will be locked. Only my fingerprints and those of director Fury open it. You could leave if you wanted, but I'd advise you not to, also.."

Clint had had enough. He wasn't stupid for fucks sake! He jumped up, swayed for a moment as his balance went off, but caught himself with a knee on the couch. 

"I understood you the first time, god damnit! Just go and meet whoever it is. If you are lucky I'm still here tomorrow. If not, you better not bother me again!"

His breathing had become laboured and he felt dizzy, but he would damn well bot admit to it. Instead he returned the man's intense gaze, ignoring the spiking pain that hit him once more. Coulson stayed calm, without any sign of anger or whatever other emotion would have made sense to come from him that moment. It annoyed the hell out of the teenager. He knew how to deal with angry men coming at him and he knew how to defend himself against them. The silent acceptance of almost everything he demanded and said was something new, something he couldn't place and it put him on edge. 

"Very well. There's an alarm clock in your bedroom. If you want your clothes washed and returned by tomorrow afternoon, leave them in the hamper in the bathroom. If you need anything, use the phone's speed dials. That would be all"

Coulson turned and eleven seconds later the door closed behind him, Clint staring at it for a moment before literally collapsing down onto the couch. Face buried in one of the pillows, he let out a pained whine, glad to finally be alone. For long minutes he didn't move at all, thinking about how big his chances were to make it out of the building unseen. On the other side he had no place to go. No place safe at least. Was he even safe where he was? He had no fucking clue and it felt like each passing second made his head hurt worse. He barely had the energy left to bring up his arm to pull the beanie off. Sleep was approaching fast and he just knew he wouldn't make it to the bedroom even if he tried. 

Last thing he saw before he blinked and his eyes decided to stay closed, was the main character of the movie blowing up yet another car. Yeah, right, because that's what a  _ secret agent  _ would do in the middle of a million inhabitant city. Coulson would have definitely just stared any enemy down. Or bored them to death. Whatever. 


	5. Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts in a conference room and ends at medical. Coulson takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am NOT satisfied with this chapter, but I didn‘t Want to let you wait a lot longer. Life got crazy with family members in hospital, unplanned renovations and my patients demanding so much time from me, there was no energy left for writing. Things might slow down here a bit, but I will continue.Love this story far too much to put it on hold. 
> 
> Happy reading. Have a good week!!!

He had been out like a light all night long. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept so deep, undisturbed and most of all dreamless. Which didn‘t mean that he felt any better. The opposite was the case actually and it didn‘t help his mood, neither his mental state. He had never made it to the bed.  _ His  _ bed. Shit. He should have known better than to let his guard down like this in a completely new environment !! He had no clue who could wander in and do whatever they wanted. He had left himself in a completely defenseless and vulnerable position, in a place that was unfamiliar.

Only that Coulson had even knocked at the apartment door and waited until Clint had opened. He hadn't let himself in, although he knew he could have. This man was a mystery to him, trusting him and giving those looks as if he  _ knew  _ anything about him. He hadn't asked him about the wrinkled up clothes that he had slept in and was still wearing. Although the teenager could have asked him in return, why he looked like he hadn't slept at all. No comment on anything, just the question if he had had breakfast. He hadn't. In fact he had woken up only ten minutes before Coulson had turned up. He wasn't even very hungry. Yeah, Clint Barton had no appetite whatsoever that morning and the reason was the increasing pain in his ears and head. He had only shrugged when Coulson had announced he would take them to the cafeteria for breakfast after the meeting. Well then.

As they walked through the hallways, he stayed behind Coulson, hands in his pockets, teeth bit together tightly. He didn’t have his bow with him. If shit went down he had to rely on being fast and small enough to fit in spaces, where nobody would check for him. The looks he got from people passing by made his skin crawl. Most of them were wearing formal suits, others the same hoodie he had on. Anybody except for maybe a handful of them had the SHIELD logo somewhere on them. It raised only more questions in him. What the fuck would an organization of that size want from  _ him  _ ? More and more he was convinced, that there was more to this, a hook, a trap set up that would chain him to a room till he was old enough to do whatever they wanted without legal consequences. The thought alone made him sick even more than he already felt.

"We are here" 

Coulson stopped and only last second Clint could prevent himself from running into him. The agent turned and looked at him, nodding towards the door that was labeled  _ Conference 4. _

"Are you ready for this?" He would have almost gone as far as saying that he sounded concerned? About what? The teenager frowned, squared his shoulders and put on his brave face, raised a brow.

"Would it matter if I wasn't?" His voice didn't have the bite to it that he had intended. The agent in front of him only raised his eyebrows the slightest bit, calm as ever.

"Yes, it would matter"

"Yeah, right. Let's get this shit over with"

"Behave yourself, Clint. You won't get a second chance with these people"

"Promise or threat?"

He couldn't help it. He had opted to defensive behavior early. It was better to display an _I don't give a fuck_ attitude, rather than letting nervousness being a weakness to be defeated on. And fuck he was nervous. What even was this _agency?_ They didn't seem so secret with a huge building complex in the middle of The Big Apple. How many people had already walked past them? Hundreds ? How were they working in front of everyone's eyes and yet he had never heard of them? 

"Clint?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, raised his chin and pushed the door open, stepping into the room with two long strides only to stop dead in tracks.

A cliché conference room. Huge round table. Four people seated, one huge black guy in a leather coat standing. The opposite wall was made of floor deep glass windows with a spectacular view over New York City. The emblem of the grey eagle, that was present all over the building, covered half of the floor. The door clicked shut behind him and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, every fibre in his body screamed for flight. Why hadn't he taken his bow with him? He suddenly felt like an idiot having walked into an unknown situation completely unprepared. The people stared at him. His skin crawled.

"Agent Coulson, Mr. Barton" Big black guy nodded at them both, rested his eye, yeah he had a friggin eye patch, on him and slightly raised his brow before turning back to Coulson.

"I imagined him bigger"

"I imagined you politer, now look at you acting like I'm not here"

It was out before he had even had the chance to control himself. Yeah, fear usually won over the filter between his mind and mouth. With the piercing look that hit him, he almost regretted having said anything. He fisted his hands in his pockets, ready to leash out, should the guy decide to make him feel  _ consequences.  _ There was always some kind of backlash when he big mouthed to an adult. 

Instead a hand came to rest on his shoulder, squeezed it briefly. Fuck did he want to brush it off with a snarky remark, but in the face of these unknown people, a closed room and almost nowhere to go, it was the bit of reassurance he needed to keep his shit together. 

"Clint, this is director Nicholas Fury, the person who sent me to get you"

He pushed him forward and black guy,  _ Fury,  _ exchanged a look with Coulson, that made him curious about how close those two were actually. He bit back the question and instead took a few more steps forward, subconsciously making sure to stay by Coulson's side and close enough to the door to take flight if needed.

"This is Agent Willers, he was originally decided on to be your mentor and will participate as the board members' trusted agent of choice. He will be our substitute in any cases of absence"

He looked at the guy and couldn‘t help the shiver running through him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up immediately. The guy‘s eyes could only be described as those of a reptile. At least that was Clint‘s first association. Green brown eyes, piercing and judging, but void of any emotion. His face was an unreadable mask, his military short buzz cut adding to the heartless and serious first impression . He fought the urge to step behind Coulson, just to get out of the man‘s line of sight. If  _ this  _ guy would have been sent to pick him up, he would have definitely released that arrow. Dude was creepy as fuck.

Coulson must have noticed, because his hand suddenly squeezed Clint‘s shoulder, turning him towards the two present women. The younger one gave him a small smile, her face the total opposite of Willers‘. Open. Welcoming. 

„This is Agent Maria Hill. She will be my substitute, partner and your second mentor“

Hill nodded, smiled a bit more and Clint found himself returning the gesture, before turning to the last person.

„This is Tarja Lehtinen, current president of the world security council and board member of honor. She will be surveilling your progress and … success“

It sounded like Coulson had intended to say something completely different at first and it made Clint frown, but given who he was facing, he swallowed down his comment. He was getting the impression, that this was far bigger than he had imagined, much more serious. These people weren‘t just trying to charm him into something. This was serious business. Why else would the friggin‘  _ World Security council  _ get involved. He felt a rush of nervousness go through him. Maybe this had been a bad idea and he should take the opportunity to get out of this while he still could. He had only wanted to disappear from anyone‘s radar, to be left in peace. Now he was being watched by a world wide association. Fuck……… Fuck.  _ Fuck .  _

Bad idea. Better run. He should have totally ran from the room right there and then.

Only that he had no place to go to and with the growing dizziness, pain and heat that radiated off his body and covered him in enough sweat to cause his shirt to stick to his skin, he doubted he would get very far should he decide to run. Fuck did he want to though.

„My...pleasure..and honor..to meet you“

The fuck? He never stuttered. Never fucking ever! 

He felt even more miserable with how all of the present people stared at him. He hated being the center of attention, being stared at, feeling threatened and small. It reminded him of the way his father had always stared at him right before pouncing on him, knocking him off his feet and beating him- often until he cried or passed out. He felt the tension spread through his body, gritted his teeth and intensifying the pain in his ears. Fuck he wanted out of there. He wanted peace and quiet, painkillers, and sleep for at least 24. His eyes remained on Lehtinen without really seeing her. It was a trap. He would never get out of this once he agreed. He had known it. There was a catch. This was all too easy. Food. Shelter. Safety. Nobody offered that without a price and he should have known it for fuck‘s sake ! He would be their toy, something they pushed around, something to be used as they seemed fit. Sacrifices and pain  _ were always  _ the price to pay for trusting someone. 

He felt his chest get tight, breathing becoming effort and the dizziness was steadily growing, his vision blurring. A rushing sound grew in both his ears, till it threatened to drown out everything else. He kept staring at the woman, while his thoughts spiraled down to the trap he had maneuvered himself into. How could he have been so stupid ? 

He was suddenly turned around in a strong grip on both his shoulders. The motion caused his head to spin and the room to tilt away. He felt like standing in the middle of a merry go round. His hands shot up as his vision greyed around the edges, holding onto the arms that held him up as he completely lost his grip on the world. His balance went off fully and dizziness turned into black spots in front of his eyes. A few more seconds he desperately tried to regain balance and control over his body again, then he felt his knees buckle, a desperate noise escaping his throat. He couldn’t lose it there.

Not safe.

He was unconscious before Coulson‘s arms closed around him.

>>—->

What the …

The teenager dropped down lifeless and Coulson had to fall to his knees to catch him. The past seconds Clint had done nothing but gasping and staring at President Lehtinen, his face suddenly draining of all color. Coulson had tried to get through to him, turning him away from the people looking him over. The teenagers face had been pale and sweaty, his cheeks flushed.

„Clint? What‘s wrong? Talk to me?! Hey..breathe.. “

Although he had raised his voice and held the boy tightly by his shoulders, he didn‘t seem to see him. Instead he stared through him, gasping for air and threatening to fall to the left. If he had to make a guess, he would have said Clint Barton was having a sudden panic attack. That, and something else. The boy‘s hands suddenly came up, closing around his forearms, strong fingers clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket. He still didn‘t react and to his horror, his eyes had rolled back before his small frame went limp.

„What the fuck?!“ Fury.

Maria Hill was up first, rounding the table and kneeling next to them. Her hand came to rest on Clint‘s cheek and she sucked in a deep breath. 

„You were right. He caught something judged by the fever he is running. Take him to medical, I call ahead“

She didn‘t waste any time, ever the professional. She only gave his shoulder a squeeze, then got up to inform medical and the doctor on call, that they would be coming down. Coulson shuffled around, pushed an arm under Clint‘s knees and one around his back. Lifting him up he realised just how light the boy was. For his age he should have had several pounds more on him. He got a feeling, that medical would be his place to be for a while. He rose to his feet, already turned to the door, when Fury stepped next to him. 

„Why didn’t you say he was sick? How does that look in front of the board now?“ he said in a hushed tone through his teeth, keeping up with the agent as he walked. 

Coulson frowned first, then got serious, face closed off. 

„I‘ve known him for less than 24h and took him from the streets, how was I supposed to know, Nicholas ?“

The agent sounded pissed, his tone sharp while he adjusted his grip on the boy, leaning him more against his chest. He wasn't waiting for any more questions or comments, directly heading to the elevator.

„I keep telling you, this moves too fast. He is twelve, Nicholas. Look at his files. What do you expect? He kicked into panic and whatever it is he caught out there, before it isn‘t gone and he's back to his senses, he will not be able to consent to anything. Or God beware  _ sign  _ any contract regarding his future life belonging to SHIELD“

Hill rushed past them and opened the elevator doors, cutting off Fury‘s next words. 

„They are awaiting you. Varma is on duty and pulling any medical files possible on him“

Fury narrowed his eyes, looked down at Clint‘s lifeless form and then gave a clicking sound with his tongue. 

„Make sure he stays put. They‘ll ask for report, full on check up. Get it over with while I try my best to keep the Council and board convinced he‘s suitable for our purpose“

Coulson bit his tongue, anger starting to build inside of him. He would have a talk with Fury later. He already disliked the fact, that they had set their eyes on a kid and the way he seemed to think about Barton and his  _ purpose  _ wasn't sitting right with him, to say it nice. 

Stepping into the elevator, he only exchanged a look with Fury, holding his gaze until the doors were closed.

"The board got him by the throat, Phil" Maria said and although Coulson understood the pressure their director was under, he was drawing a line.

"He's twelve years old and they corner him into an all or nothing decision" He hissed. "He can't even legally sign any contract they could come up with, not to talk about the fact that he doesn't even know what he is getting into. They are taking advantage of him, of his situation and you know it"

"I know, Philipp" Her voice was calm, but with a sigh to it. She did understand his concerns, fully. "SHIELD is also the best option for him at this point. He has been followed by someone else as well, for weeks. At least here he is safe till he turns eighteen and now, that Willers is officially not more than a substitute mentor, you can make sure he's not being.. used"

He looked at her, raised a brow. He hadn't told her ?! 

"Oh come on, Philipp. Don't offend me. Of course I know"

The elevator doors opened and all conversations they two agents could have had, were pushed aside as they were greeted by Varma and a nurse. They stood right by the elevator, holding a gurney ready, which Coulson laid Barton on next moment. The small group set into motion, hurrying down the hallway towards the treatment rooms. Once they were inside an otherwise empty room, the nurse got to work with skilled motions. She didn‘t bother trying to take Clint‘s hoodie and shirt off, but proceeded to cut both off him, while Coulson remained standing next to Clint‘s head. He made sure to stay out of everyone‘s way, while they took the cut fabric off him, clipped a device to his finger and started taking his basic vitals.

„Agent Coulson, status report?“

He took his eyes off Clint‘s exposed torso slowly. At first sight he had held his breath. The boy wasn‘t just thin, but bordering malnourishment. His ribs were prominent, even covered in bruises here and there, a not fully healed scar visible on the right under his chest. His state was even worse, than he had expected. There was no way he would give his consent to anything regarding the boy, before he wasn‘t fully healed.

Tearing his eyes off him, he looked at the doctor and proceeded to report what he knew and what had happened. Without realising, he rested his hand on Clint‘s exposed shoulder. Should he come back around, he would for sure not be happy or calm. While Varma took notes in the device he was holding, the nurse already announced that the boy was indeed hot to the touch. A second later a blue line went over the boy‘s torso, scanning him for injuries and temperature. The results appeared on his tablet and Varma sucked in a breath, but was cut short before he could say anything. The nurse had pulled Clint‘s beanie off, probably aiming to release some trapped heat in the face of his high body temperature. 

Their eyes fell on purple hearing aids. 

Suddenly a lot of things made sense. Coming out of the shower with the beanie on. Always staring when being spoken to. Gritting his teeth and jumping at loud noises. The way he always got up slowly or slowed down before changing direction when walking. His balance had been off. Memories of the medical reports from his thin file came flooding back. A ruptured eardrum as result of an untreated infection at the age of ten.

Varma ran another scan, the blue line of the sensors embedded into the ceiling above the gurney focusing on the boy‘s head. He let out a curse, tapped along the screen of his tablet, zoomed and swiped. Coulson observed his face expression, not liking at all how the medic frowned deeper and deeper. He waited another few seconds, then he had it with the waiting and being left in the dark. His eyes and the nurse‘s came to rest on the man, who lowered the tablet slowly to look at the agent.

„What is it?“ His tone was sharp.

„He‘s got untreated ruptures in both eardrums and with the infection he has developed, he will lose the bit of hearing he has left if we don‘t start treatment right now. In fact the infection has already started to spread. He‘s going to go into critical condition soon if we don‘t act fast“

A hand came to rest on Coulson‘s shoulder. Maria Hill, who had stayed back up to this point, was standing next to Coulson. The news seemed to hit her less. Phil was too surprised to come up with a reply right away, the new facts sinking in slowly. He had once managed to catch an ear infection, long ago during his teenage years when visiting family members up in the mountains. All he remembered was pain and dizziness.

„Agent Coulson is Clint‘s legal guardian. He can consent to all treatments and will stay with him. I am the second in the chain, in case you need a second opinion on anything. If you don‘t need me here I would prefer to find out where these hearing aids are from and who treated him in the first place“

He silently thanked her, only nodded when their eyes met before she walked out, after Varma had dismissed her.

„Agent Coulson? Seeing as you are..“

He straightened up, eyes on Clint. His professional mask was back in place. He was trained to act and take decisions under pressure. He had to look at the situation as a moment when fast acting was required. He refused to think of it as a mission. A job. Clint Barton was no job. He was a boy too afraid to admit that he was in pain, used to caring for himself that he thought he could handle it on his own. He was no job. He was his responsibility. He had signed up for that just hours ago and he wouldn‘t fail human first opportunity.

„Start treatment. Anything that is necessary to help him recover and keep me up to date on his condition“

The nurse started to move again, taking supplies from a closet that was barely visible behind doors that merged with the wall. 

„Can you keep him under for the time of the treatment?“

„Excuse me?“

Varma looked surprised, almost shocked with the way he raised his brow. Coulson returned his look, absolutely serious about his request. 

„Can you keep him sedated until the infection cleared?“

„That won‘t be necessary, Agent Coulson. Once we have..“

„You don‘t understand. He will run at first chance. You have no way to keep him in here once he wakes up and I would guess, that he can‘t wear the hearing aids while his infection clears? That leaves him deaf and helpless, in a surrounding he doesn‘t know. He‘s going to lose it once he wakes up. I  _ ask you  _ to keep him sedated until the moment you can safely agree to him wearing his aids. I am afraid it‘s going to be necessary for his safety and  _ yours“ _

It was evident that the young doctor didn‘t know what to think of it. A few seconds ticked by while his eyes went from Clint to the tablet and finally back to Coulson. Hesitant but clearly visible he nodded. 

„It might take 48h before his ears are starting to clear up“

„That is fine, I‘ll be here once you let him come around. You can reach me 24/7 if I‘m not here“

Varma nodded. 

„That would be all for now, Agent Coulson. I‘ll let you know what room he‘ll be in“

„No visitors besides me and Agent Hill“

Agreement, besides visible questions on the medic‘s face. There would be time for more answers later. Answers he had to find and adjustments he had to make before Clint woke up again. He set into motion. 

He had a 48h deadline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That‘s it for now. Next chapter from Clint‘s POV again and a few surprises for everyone ^^
> 
> What happened during the night Before the meeting, will be an extra short story in the Raising Hawkeye series, in case you are interested in it. 
> 
> That‘s all for now. Remember you can find me on kik in case you want to. Stay safe and healthy everyone.


	6. Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wakes up and has to take a decision. Phil Coulson makes and offer and leaves Barton confused, but slightly hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incredibly grateful and so honored by every single sign of appreciation I got since the last chapter. Thank you for every single kudos, comment, follow and bookmark. It means the world to me and keeps me going. 
> 
> I am sorry for letting you wait for so long. After this chapter everything gets a bit more interesting. We are officially done with the introduction part !!

He opened his eyes and saw nothing but blurry lines, spots of light and moving shadows. It was effort to even keep his eyes open, feeling so exhausted and tired as if he hadn't slept for ages. On top of everything his head was fuzzy, his surrounding barely making sense to him, with a heavy nausea sitting in his stomach. He blinked, turned his head to the side, looking at a face, but unable to make out any features. 

"B-barney…?" his voice was raspy and his memories too fuzzy to explain the situation to his mind. He brought a hand up towards the face, but felt it being caught by a larger hand. It got placed down besides him gently and a moment later something touched his lips.

"Small sips, or you'll make yourself sick" The voice was gentle, familiar, but he couldn't come up with a name. The voice was also muffled, as if his ears were filled with cotton or as if he was underwater, just below the surface, but under far enough to barely make out the words. He knew the voice…

He opened his mouth and the item against his lips turned out to be a straw. He sipped cautiously, but when the first bit of fresh water hit his tongue, his body realized how much he was in need for fluids. He sucked faster, swallowed greedily ,only to have the straw removed.

"Hey, I said slow"

He felt too tired to fight for the straw. It was as if a heavy weight was resting on every square inch of his body. The voice remained gently, caring even, but he couldn't place it. As muffled as it was, he couldn't recognize it. Nothing around him made sense. There was no pain, but a fuzzy detached feeling covering all his senses. He turned to the face again, squinted but couldn't make out the features. His vision remained blurry. His hand moved towards his ear. The effort the movement took caused a low noise to roll from his lips, but just like before his hand got caught and placed down, a gentle shushing sound killing his protest before he could muster the strength to start.

"Wha… where…?"

There was touch suddenly in his hair, combing through it. It could only be Barney. Nobody else did this for him. Nobody else was  _ allowed. _ They had nobody else. 

"The med bay, you're getting better, but I need you to rest more. Sleep if you can. I take care of the rest"

He blinked, the face in front of him remained. Too wide to be Barney's, the hair not even blonde. His eyes went wide, his body tensing. Somewhere in the distance a beep or chime started. The hand left his hair, instead his cheek was cupped, his head held still.

"Clint, I need you to stay calm. I make sure nothing happens to you. You are sick, you need to let the medication work, don't fight it, please"

Please? Nobody said please to him. He was bossed around, hit and kicked, grounded. Nobody  _ asked  _ him to do things.

"I feel.. sick.. " he then confirmed, fighting to keep his eyes open. "...n tir'd… hot.. arms so hea'y"

The hand went away and he let out a noise of protest. It had felt good! A cool touch was back seconds later, something cold and wet moving over his face slowly. He sighed. It felt good, so good, taking some of the discomfort away. His eyes started to droop. Who was this person? Why did they do this? Nobody did this, nobody cared what happened to him?! 

"It's okay, you can sleep. You'll feel better next time you wake up. You're safe"

He almost chuckled, instead a huff like sound left his mouth.

" 'm never safe.." he mumbled before his eyes finally stayed shut and his head lolled to the side, sleep having claimed him.

>>\--->

He woke again, unable to say how much time had passed. There was twilight around him still, hardly any sound. His mind was still fuzzy, his eyes doing their best to stay shut. Keeping them open for just seconds was an effort that exhausted him. He felt like shit. There was pressure in his head, but no pain, nausea and the leaden feeling in all his limbs hadn't passed.

The voice was there again. The person gave him some water that he sipped slowly that time. He didn't manage a lot before the liquid caused his stomach to roll. He felt warm and fuzzy, but unable to hold onto a coherent thought more than a few moments. He fought for it as the voice talked, but nothing seemed to make sense.

He submitted to exhaustion again.

>>\--->

"His readings look good, blood results came back much improved. He should come around within the hour"

"Thank you, Dr. Varma. Much appreciated. Do you mind if I stay till Agent Coulson comes back?" 

"Of course not Agent Hill"

He heard the words. Clearly. Crystal clear. That already was an improvement. He slowly surfaced from a state that he couldn't decide on had been the deepest sleep of his life or unconsciousness. He kept his eyes closed for a couple of seconds longer, then started to blink. He felt as if a truck had hit him. Tired, not to say exhausted. As he tried to move his head, his neck felt stiff.

His surrounding swam into focus enough to make him understand where he was, just the moment the door clicked shut and a woman walked towards him. He followed her movements with half opened eyes, his thoughts racing to make sense of what he was seeing and what was happening. He knew her.

"You are always ahead of everyone, hm?" Her voice was nice and a small smile settled on her face. If it hadn't been for his thoughts coming together slower than cold honey, he would have jerked away from her touch on his forehead next second. Instead he just frowned.

"Your fever is staying down finally, that's good. Do you want some water?"

He nodded in reflex. His throat felt dry, almost parched each time he tried to swallow. She brought a straw to his lips and he sipped slowly, eyes still moving around the room. 

Hospital.

He emptied the small cup of water, looked around more. An IV pole next to him held several bags, all ending in a line that went all the way to his hand. Panic threatened to close up his chest. What were they giving him? Why did he feel as if he had been buried under a building? His other hand came up, attempting to grip on the IV line. 

"Hey hey hey !"

The woman was up and caught his hand, holding it by his wrist and giving him a gentle but serious look while shaking her head. He tried to pull his hand back, but had to accept that he stood no chance. Instead he stared at her, swallowing hard and desperately trying to remember if he knew her. She appeared nice but she wasn't the voice he remembered from earlier. There were vague memories of touch and gentle words..

"You're… Maria Hill…." He said lowly when the memory finally came back. "Coulson said… you are the second in line…?" What had he even meant by that? And how had he gotten from the conference room with a headache, to a state weak enough to be hooked up to lines and wires at a hospital? He frowned deeply, head dropping back and eyes closing as he groaned in frustration. Fuck, he couldn't let that happen! He had to stay in control. He had to keep the upper hand. He couldn't be clueless like this, it never ended well! 

"Yeah, I'm Maria. I'm Phil's partner usually and now the one to look after you when he is absent. Do you remember what happened?"

Why was her voice so gentle? Why was she still holding his hand and running her thumb over the back of it? Why was she so…  _ nice ?  _ Nobody was ever that nice. Nice always meant second thoughts, problems in the making. Did he remember? Vaguely. He attempted a shrug, trying to at least fake that he didn't care while, at the same time, he was fighting hard not to panic in the face of his situation.

"Conference room. Coulson… guy in leather coat… guy with lizard eyes… you and another woman" He had a feeling like the names were actually important, but he felt too tired to think much more.

"Yes, we aware about to discuss the conditions of your training. You had a panic attack, then passed out and while you were checked over here there was a severe inner ear infection discovered, along with other things"

That was when his eyes snapped open and he sat up straight, hands both shooting up to touch his ears. His eyes were wide, focusing on her, chest getting tight again. Clint tried to figure out what she was thinking, but he couldn't see behind her small and still so goddamn gentle smile. 

"You are most part deaf, we already know that and it won't be an issue, but something our R&D crew will try to compensate with some good hearing aids, should you decide to take the offer you'll receive from SHIELD"

What? He could only keep staring. She made it sound like they were talking about the goddamn weather, not a serious disability he had been carrying around for goddamn years. He was growing frustrated, didn't understand how she could take that so light. It was a fuck up. A disability. Shit that knocked him down again and again.

"How the fuck is that not a problem for you?" It burst out and for a moment he sounded much stronger and upset than he felt. In fact, all he had left in him was confusion, fatigue and a myriad of questions. Hill raised her brows, leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"Because deaf or not, it doesn't make you less of a talent or less valuable. You don't rely on your hearing to do what you do and with the technology SHIELD has at hand you could be provided with hearing aids that even enhance your hearing" She talked with conviction, calm. Clint could hardly believe what he heard. "It's also not important for the moment. The decisions about that will be made later. What matters right now is that you need to get well enough. We need you to make a decision for your own good and we need you to think about it and be absolutely sure about it"

"Why… why you keep saying I  _ need  _ to? You're forcing me. I  _ have to  _ , that's what you are saying"

"That's not what she is saying"

He jumped at the voice, eyes darting towards the door. Half hidden behind Hill and too focused on her, he hadn't noticed it opening and closing again. Coulson approached the bed, a guy in a white coat in tow. His heart skipped a beat, his hands fisting around the cover, his chest tightening. He hated hospitals, doctors even more and with the state he was in, he felt the panic rising again. He had no way of escaping, not against the three of them. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his skin starting to crawl again while he tried to keep a poker face. Coulson pulled a chair over and sat next to Maria Hill, his face unreadable.

"How are you feeling?"

His eyes stayed on the doctor walking around the bed, approaching him from the other side. 

Not good. Sandwiched. Trapped. Not good. NOT GOOD.

"Clint?!"

He jumped again, head spinning towards Coulson. It caused the room to tilt away for s few seconds, but he had other things to pay attention to. From the corner of his eye he saw the doctor moving, working with a kind of tablet, the low tapping sound of his fingers against the surface unnaturally loud. His eyes darted from Hill to Coulson.

"I'm… fine"

"Try again with the truth"

Huh? Yeah, Coulson was for sure not beating around the bush. He opened his mouth, about to protest, but closed it again when Coulson raised a brow. Shit.

"Okay… I guess? Fuzzy head. Nauseous…. Body like lead. There's.. pressure in my head"

He reported with hesitation, turning to look at the doc again, who was still tapping away on the device.

"The Nausea might be from lack of food, as soon as you are up to it, you should try to eat something. The painkillers and antibiotics need some base to work with. When you can handle it, we can switch from IV to oral medication. Your vitals look surprisingly good. The infection is clearing up slowly" 

The white coat didn't even look when talking and it didn't help his suspicious feeling. He hated this behavior. Doctors always talked over his head, treated him like an invalid and a small child. It upset him.

"I'm  _ fine.  _ I want to leave. I can have some pizza in  _ my  _ quarters"

He didn't feel like eating at all. In fact the thought alone made him sick. His stomach clenched and he stiffened.

"You aren't fine, young man. You.."

"Doctor Varma, thank you for your help. We want to talk to him in private. Please proceed as agreed"

To his absolute surprise, the man called Varma only nodded with a sigh and then left. How much power did Coulson have? How high was he up the ranks? It didn't matter. He felt his panic rise the longer he was forced to stay in this bed. He took the sheets and started to push them off, stopped by Hill. Her hand held his wrist again, warning him without a word.

"Listen,  _ Agent  _ Hill…"

"No, you will listen now, Clint" 

Coulson. He hadn‘t even raised his voice, but was looking at him with that stern expression, that caused him to stop in motion and, in fact, listen to him. He wanted to get away. He wanted out of this room, at least back to the apartment they had said could be his, or better out of the building. He could feel the walls starting to close in on him. He fisted both his hands and to his relief Hill let him go, leaned back in her chair again. 

„You‘ve spent the past three and a half days in and out of consciousness. Your ear infection had spread in deep and the antibiotics are just starting to take proper effect. You will be on them for at least another week and if Dr.Varma could have his way, he would have you not wearing your hearing aids at all until your ears cleared up completely“

The protest almost came across his lips, but Coulson just brought a hand up and kept talking.

„I already talked to him, that it won‘t happen. We understand this situation is stressful for you and we won‘t force you into coping without the ability to hear“

He understood. Clint was too stunned to say anything, instead sank back against the raised head part of the bead, his neck muscles welcoming the relief of being supported again. He had been out for more than three days?  _ Three days??  _ Coulson was sitting there, looking at him and talking so calm and convinced as if he was adopting a puppy. Why was he doing that? Why was he so nice and acting against the doctor‘s will  _ for him ? _

„Now comes the part Agent Hill has been trying to lead to while you worked so hard to keep interrupting her. We need you to make a decision about how you want the next days to go. For as long as you recover, you will not be left alone, which means someone will either keep you company in your quarters, you stay here at med bay for observation, or you take a bigger decision about a temporary home and recover outside the building, to which..“

„You said I get out of the system!“

In his defense- it was an impulsive reaction born out of bad experience and resulting panic. Temporary home could only have two meanings. It was either some kind of orphanage or a foster family and both options brought him to the verge of throwing up. In fact, he already swallowed heavily, stomach churning and his mouth filling with the bitter taste of pre- sickness saliva. His eyes started to burn, about to spill tears of despair. He had given him that much trust to follow him, when he had said he could get out of the system ! Why did that have to be the lie? Out of all the things he had said? His chest felt tighter with the seconds passing. He just wanted out. Away from it all. 

„… to which I volunteered“

The words dropped and the upset expression of his face turned into utter confusion, eyes going wide and jaw literally dropping. For several seconds neither of them said a word. 

„You…“

His voice was barely above a whisper, shaking like a leave in the whirlwind of his emotions. He closed his mouth slowly, still staring and trying to grasp the extend of the suggestion the man had made. 

„I volunteer to become your legal guardian, yes“ He didn‘t break the eye contact. „People outside SHIELD know about you, too many people. At this point our fastest and safest way to your safety is going with the law and outsourcing under my care. Which I am willing to try, but won‘t force on you. I need to make sure, you understand the decision you will take with this. We have possibilities to make things happen fast, but it‘s freedom on our conditions, which, for now, include medical treatment and recovery. You won‘t be able to get around the full physical in the near future and there are rules at my house“

„Phil, you start to sound like some military dad. Give him some time to breathe and think“

Maria Hill‘s hand was on Coulson‘s forearm and he didn’t to fight it off, only raised his brow at her and then looked back at Clint. The teenager‘s thoughts were racing. Care. Safety. Home. This were words he barely had a concept of. They sounded tempting, like the dream he had always had and started to lose faith in. 

„I get out?“ He still spoke lowly, as if a too loud word would burst the bubble of opportunities floating in front of him.

„Under care and observation, yes“

„To live with you?“

„Temporary, until we worked out the conditions of your contract and find you fit enough to take the decision to sign it or not“

„How long?“

„However long it takes. After the issues discovered the past days, SHIELD put their plans on hold. I.. let‘s say I opened their eyes to the image it would create of our organization, if the wrong people find out about a minor having been taken advantage of in order to turn him into a weapon on the base of not having ways out or the opportunity to say no“

He almost chuckled.

„You.. blackmailed them..?“

„I wouldn‘t..“

„Yes, that was exactly what he did and neither Fury, nor the board members were happy about it, but agreed anyway“

Maria Hill got up and patted Coulson‘s shoulder, smiling at Clint. 

„I think I have a few things to do now. You two discuss out the rest and call for me when you are done“

Grinning and sounding almost cheery she left, leaving Clint to look at Coulson, still in absolute disbelief. 

„Why?“

„Why am I doing this?“

He nodded only, bit his lip and sank deeper into the pillow. Only the short discussion having exhausted him to a point, that he was sure he could have fallen asleep any second. 

„Because I think it‘s unfair to catch you off the streets in such a state and put you into a spot that demands a decision from you that will have an impact on the rest of your life. You are still a child. You have abilities, but you are still a child. It would be taking advantage of you in a vulnerable moment and that‘s not something I will consent to. I give you some time to figure out what you want. I am keeping my word. I always do“

He was treating him  _ fair .  _ For the first time in probably all his life, someone wasn‘t treating him as an incapable child or someone inferior, but someone equal and mature enough to take decisions. He couldn‘t understand why. He had absolutely no clue why he was being so nice, so understanding. He only knew that it was a feeling he wanted to keep, that very fragile hope of a future that was better than what he had called his life so far.

„Okay“

Coulson leaned in, forearms resting on his knees. 

„I need more than that, Clint“

There it was. The voice he remembered. The gentle caring tone he recalled in between headache and fear. It had been Coulson, sitting with him. The big question of WHY kept spinning in his mind. What was he getting out of this? He blinked, his eyes staying shut for a few seconds and opening them again was such effort. He looked at the man. Him being his temporary guardian, something like a foster parent, meant that he, for the first time ever, knew who he was landing up with. 

„I… I‘d prefer to .. recover at your place“

He was very sure to have seen the unreadable face of the agent change into a smile before he finally gave into his body‘s deep demand to sleep. He felt a touch on his shoulder, heard the same gentle voice again, telling him to sleep as much as needed while he would take care of things and arrange his transfer. He wanted to fight. His rebellious side wanted to dissent, but he didn‘t. He‘d been running for months. In pain. In fear. Always cold and hungry. He was so tired of it. He wanted a home, safety, even if it would be for just a short time. He was so tired of it all. 

He wanted to believe Coulson. He wanted that chance. He wanted that  _ normal.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That‘s it so far. We finally almost have Clint and Phil under one roof. Parent Phil and father son relationship starting right here . YAS !
> 
> If you feel like requesting a story, drabble, oneshot or whatever- head over to my recent new work ‚Make a Wish‘ and let me know what you want me to write for you. Various fandoms, pairings etc are possible. I‘d be glad to take your challenge.
> 
> I wish you all a good week, stay safe, stay healthy and see you next time :)

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos. Comments. Messages. Questions and Requests.. everything is welcome. Thank you a lot for reading <3


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